Thomas Chatterton

B. R., "Parody on Chatterton's Songe to Aella" European Magazine 1 (April 1782) 307.

Oh thou, orr what remaynes of thee,
Rowley, thou preacher of antiquitye,
Lett thys mie songe, like Hasting's battle be,
A subject of debate for all posteritye.

Whanne artful Chatterton, of bloude-red hue,
Hys stocking, streaming wythe the morning due,
Uponne the lethale daie,
To Redcliffe took his waie,
Wythe antiquarian Bartlett for hys guide;
Than dydd hys furious hande
Steale monie deeds of lande,
Not even myghty Milles hys guilte can hide.

Into his baskett felle,
As ravenous as helle,
Thousandes of parchments went:
Brystowannes have y tolde,
That gests and stories olde,
Were written on those parchmentes wondrous quent.

Oh thou, where'er (thie bones att reste)
Thye spryte to haunte delyghteth best,
Whetherr on Bristowe Bridge, or Redcliffe Churche,
Or else 'mongst moth-devoured bookes,
In which bold Bryant sometimes lookes,
Tho' oft hys learnynge leaves hym in the lurche.

Or should thie spiritt chuse to stopp,
In Catcott's warehouse, or hys shopp,
And sigh to be amenged the pewter plates;
Orr ynne old Canynge's magic roome,
Envelopp'd wythe a twilight gloome,
Where Glynn, and Smith may wayle their emptie pates.

Orr 'mongst the pots, and bottles pil'd,
By busie Barrett staring wild,
Guarde alle thie sermons with religious care;
That Exon's Dean maie never finde
A perfect copie to his minde,
And print it as a booke of posies rare.